Through A Mirror Darkly
by surestsmile
Summary: Loneliness has always been a terrible thing. And it can lead us to do things we would normally never do. Rikucentric onesided RikuSora [Completed]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing its characters.

Through A Mirror Darkly

He whispered the name again, listening to the sibilant hiss of the 's' fade away into a resigned 'ah', before the sound was swallowed into silence in the near darkness of his room. Sora did not turn towards him, his face set in a determined expression as he swung his Keyblade, movements still a little clumsy. In spite of those movements, he noted that Sora's actions had become sharper and more confident with each consequent fight. A black glove rose to touch Sora's check, but the image would never feel the warmth of the leather. Riku repeated the name, watching his breath fog up the part of the mirror that bore Sora's neck, and closed his eyes.

How Maleficent, the witch of Hollow Bastion, ever managed to capture the image of Sora so clearly, turning the vast mirror in his room into some kind of transmitter that focused solely on Sora was beyond him, but he didn't complain. At least there was Sora's image to look at. A living (almost breathing, if he just closed his eyes and pretend) person to let his insatiable appetite for a familiar face feast on. In the times when he was tired and alone and helpless, he always sat at the foot of the mirror, conscientiously observing Sora's every emotion. Every tear. Every smile.

The smiles hurt so badly.

He never imagined that they would hurt. Later, he reflected that it must have been homesickness, that the boy, laughing and crying and _real_, even though he was trapped behind the cold glass of the mirror, was a hundred, a thousand times more attractive than the girl, whom although he could touch and smell and talk to, was only a vegetative doll of a person, her eyes eternally closed, never able to respond at all.

Sora symbolized life, as he should, with his face, his actions and his eyes. Kairi, on the other hand, appeared more to be a candidate for the living dead than anything resembling the light she was supposed to represent at the moment.

Groaning softly, Riku opened his eyes, pressing his face to the cold glass. The mirror did not reveal Sora's location; somehow, a kind of blank space surrounded the younger teen, showing nothing. But Sora was there, laughing now, as if with relief, one hand clutched around his stomach, and inside, the feeling of envy and jealousy hit.

_How dare he? How dare he…be happy and laugh when Kairi and I are not there? When **I** am not there? How dare he?_

Maleficent's castle, vast and generous in all things except the idea of warmth, only held his interest for the first few days before he grew bored of the endless wandering. Sometimes, the witch sent him out of the castle to do messenger work; he suspected it was just to get him out of his pacing and incessant complaints of boredom. But when the 'work' led him to Traverse Town, and then Agrabah, two places where he saw Sora up close, the loneliness and hatred burned anew.

Sora, he decided, didn't deserve him or Kairi. If he could get on so well with the strange, anthromorphic creatures, just days after they were separated, well, it certainly said a lot about the 'everlasting' friendship they were supposed to have. The rejection stung when he saw Sora with his new companions in Traverse Town, and like an injured animal he couldn't help but run back into the only refuge that he knew was offered to him. Riku's mouth twisted upwards bitterly, remembering the destruction he left in his wake after leaving his room.

Even now, he felt almost afraid of his rage.

Not that his mood was ever at its best, because it was difficult to be happy in a large castle empty of any normal, human inhabitations, and it felt ridiculous trying to tell jokes to a comatose Kairi after the first few desperate tries. Now, he just sat by her side and brooded, but it only reminded him more of his loneliness.

Maleficent, despite her self-proclaimed status that she was his benefactor after 'rescuing' him from the pit that was her own dungeon after all, never deigned herself to conduct any small talk with him. Soon, even his desire to talk to someone faded when it came to her, what with her bored words and impatience when she was occupied with something else that clearly bode a higher importance than him. He didn't know what was worse, her casual (if at all) indifference to him, or the almost vindictive attention she paid him when she needed something to be done.

Which was why he become wary of anything she did with him in mind.

"Boy."

"Get out of my room."

He knew that it was useless, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. Almost instinctively, he braced himself for the typical cuff of her staff for being so 'insolent', as she put it, but when it didn't come, he stared defiantly at her. She was smiling, a thin cunning smile that made him feel sick.

"But I have a present for you."

"Thank you, but I don't want it."

"But I think you will."

The rustle of cloth behind him made him turn, and he saw a reflection of himself, green eyes wide and tired-looking, his face pale from the lack of sun, expression unhappy. He flinched.

"Take it away! I didn't destroy the previous mirror for nothing!"

"Look again, boy. You might see something else." Her voice was dripping syrup, sweet for the incredulous moment. When he refused, this time, she did hit him, forcefully turning his face towards the hated mirror.

However, all thoughts of rebelling vanished when he saw Sora's surprised look, quickly turning into a frown that made him smile unexpectedly, so ordinary and familiar was he with the expression.

"Sora…?" His hands had reached out almost involuntarily to his friend, palms hitting cruelly on the glass. Behind him, he heard the witch laugh, but he didn't care. Sora was here, or at least, he could see Sora. The mirror was just a larger version of the crystal ball the witch kept in her viewing room, but for a moment, he felt almost grateful to her for giving him this opportunity to watch Sora.

Yet, when he turned to her, mouth opening into a word of thanks, she backhanded him, sneering, "It's not only for you to gaze senselessly at, boy. Watch him. Learn everything he learns. And learn how to counter them. Don't forget, he turned his back on you.

_"He's not your friend anymore."_

"I know." He replied sullenly, hating her again. His hands curled into fists, "I understand."

Maybe she was the one who knew what the mirror would have brought out of him. Watching Sora, day after day after day, he learned that Sora sleeps with his stomach exposed, that Sora tends to eat too fast and chokes himself, coughing and nearly turning purple with the lack of air, that sometimes, Sora hugs himself when he thinks no one is watching (the sad, surreptitious looks he shoots around him) and cries, and that Sora gives the most endearing grin to the people outside of the mirror's reach, one hand typically rubbing the back of his neck in an old habit.

He observed Sora's fighting style, yes, but he focused on Sora's daily movements more. And each time, he learnt more and more about the boy than he ever wanted to. Than he ever dreamed. Something in his chest swelled and throbbed and hurt even as he watched Sora turn on a bed. Riku crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the image of Sora sleeping peacefully, and tried not to cry at the pain.

He didn't notice in his misery, that a pair of green eyes gleamed and a thin, pleased smile flashed in the darkness before both vanished. Perhaps it would have been wiser of him to pay attention, but even then, he had given all of his thoughts towards Sora.

In the morning, the witch surprised him again when she suddenly loomed into his room, a few old, tattered-looking notebooks floating behind her. The stationary fluttered almost like birds, but they smelt musty, as if they had not seen the light of day, and he snorted softly at the irony of that thought.

"I thought," Maleficent began; ignoring the rather mutinous looks he was shooting her, "that you may want to study some of Ansem's work. If you're not going to train and fight the Keyblade Master, perhaps one of the Heartless may be able to succeed. Provided, of course, that you teach it to fight. One might imagine after all that mooning, you'll be more than able to understand and counter his attacks." She paused, watching in sick pleasure at the colouring of his face.

"This," she indicated the books, "is all of the known the research Ansem had recorded in…manipulating the Heartless. While I don't think you fancy the idea of taking someone else's heart as an exchange for a Heartless' will, Ansem had attempted to create a new Heartless without the aid of a heart. The project was nearly a success. But he never completed it." The witch turned away, robes trailing behind her. "From what I read of the reports, it appeared that he was too cowardly and weak to take the last step."

"Why should I? I know Sor – the Keyblade Master the best, I don't need a heartless to do my work for me." He retorted, looking at the books that settled themselves nicely on the sole desk in the room. They were unmarked except for a bold roman numeral on the cover, looking almost ordinary.

The witch smirked, touching one finger to her chin. "Really?"

Riku looked away. "I can do it."

"At any rate, it wouldn't hurt if you test the Keyblade Master to judge his strength. Perhaps you should. Perhaps, for _her_."

The silver haired teen knew whom she referred to. "Perhaps." He replied to the air.

He didn't touch the books until days later, when boredom threatened to overwhelm him again. The book he selected weighed light in his hand, and he fingered the well-worn cover, turning it, glancing over the neat script in black ink. "_Day One,_" it read. "_It's her one-year anniversary. In memory of her, I'm embarking on a new project. A Heartless, in her image._"There were some heavily crossed out words, then the intelligible writing continued. "_I wonder if it would work._"

_Day Two_

_My progress with the new Heartless has shown me that a heart would only result in a new type of Heartless. Its form would be unexpected, not what I have been looking for. I know that they can think, I know that they can communicate, and that they are pliable in their shape should they wish to change it._

_But how can I get one to turn into her?_

_A Heartless must come to me of its own will. It must submit its will to me, but how? How…_

Riku frowned, quickly turning the pages over. Most of the pages recorded failures, whole passages crossed out, and the comprehensible ones, at best, were notes on the failures and theories to try out. Impatiently, he took the last notebook, turning to the last written page in an attempt to find a shortcut for the answer he wanted.

_The Sixth Day_

_She's nearly finished._

_But something is wrong. She can't hold her form, and I hear voices. I hear _her_ voice. She's calling for a heart. She calls for an identity._

_I want to give it to her._

_But I'm afraid. This isn't…._

_Perhaps it never was. _

He flipped back a few pages, but was faced with the same angry black streaks that Ansem appeared to love using when he was aggravated with things gone wrong. With a low cry, he flung the notebook away, the pages slipping out of the binding glue's grasp to scatter on the floor. For a moment Riku stared at the scattered sheets, then making a noise of disgust, he got up from the bed.

The books had looked deceptively thin, but there was a surprisingly large amount of notes the man had managed to squeeze in his neat handwriting. Still, the tiny script had tried most of Riku's limited patience, and while he attempted to convince himself that a Sora Heartless really wouldn't work out, the idea had been tempting.

He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "I need to clear my head," he grumbled to himself. "Maybe…I need to talk to Kairi."

The girl's room was a copy of his, except that she didn't have a large mirror with Sora running to and fro in it. He dragged the only chair in the room to her bedside, taking her cold hand and stroking it in an effort to make it warm. Kairi's body had not moved at all, and only the slight rise and fall of her chest justified that she was still alive. But barely.

"Kairi," he called gently. The girl did not stir, but he continued talking, ignoring the fact that the witch might be watching and laughing at him and Kairi would _not_ respond and Sora was just _not_ there and _that_ made his chest ache.

_I must be crazy._ _First I'm talking to a girl who can't react_ _for some reason__, then I obsess over_ _a mirror image, and then I'm back to talking to the girl again_.

_Kairi_, his mind argued. _Her name is Kairi. Not just any girl. You'll need all the friends you can get._

"Yeah," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "Kairi, talk to me." He clasped her hand between his, touching her ice-cold fingers to his lips. "Someone, talk to me." His grip tightened almost desperately. "Anyone."

"Please."

His voice echoed emptily in the room, mocking him.

* * *

Author's Note: I accidentally erased the fic when I meant to edit it, because I realised that there were some very minor plot mistakes that I made, given that I never got to play the game. It doesn't really affect the fiction itself, but the timeline got a bit screwed. So, erm, sorry to anyone who reviewed. I also took several liberties with Ansem's character, so if anyone wants to talk about it, yeah, comment and hopefully I'll email back.

By the way, this is a result of reading angst, then humor, then slapstick and then vainly trying to get back angst. So, yes, it is wonky, it is strange, and man, it ain't good. The only reason I wrote it was that the idea is good, but, heh, I don't do it justice.

And don't try talking me out of it.

Cheerios, then.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts does not belong to me. I'm just borrowing its characters.

Through A Mirror Darkly

The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins when he returned to Hook's ship, reeking of fish guts and who knows what else from running around in Monstro. Hook's crew on the ship avoided him as he stalked his way into the lower deck, picking up a bucket of clean water in the only toilet on the ship and sloshing it over himself, not caring that it was freezing cold, and possibly not the best time to be wet. And that it was possibly the only bucket of clean water to be shared among the entire crew.

But he couldn't stand smelling like a fish anymore. And Hook could raise a fuss all he liked, and Riku could just care less. He was the one with two working hands, after all.

Grabbing a towel, he started to dry his hair, wrinkling his nose at the smell that hung on the cloth. Thank goodness he stuck resolutely to his original outfit, though he appeared glaringly out of place in Hollow Bastion; the water merely rolled off his clothes instead of soaking into them.

Riku's expression continued to darken as he thought about Sora, fighting with him, fighting _against_ him. It was so exhilarating the first time, so _right_, that he was fighting _with_ Sora against the Parasite Cage. Despite his words, his initial feelings of bitter hatred, it felt _right_. Of course, that all changed when Sora still stubbornly refused to help him, help Kairi.

Refused to see through obstinate blue eyes that Kairi should have been the one who mattered, and not some stupid worlds in need of saving, worlds that probably won't remember that he was their savior. It hurt, the final realization that Sora had really separated himself from them, that Sora _didn't care_.

The towel crumpled in his grip, and he realized that he was hyperventilating with anger. Riku shook his head, suddenly regretting wasting all the water. Kairi… Kairi was all that mattered now; she was the reason why he followed the witch's orders to get the damned puppet in the first place. He frowned, contemplating Sora.

There was a wheedling cough behind him, interrupting his train of thought, and when he turned, the towel held on his head with only one hand, Smee was already stuttering his message out.

"Ma-Maleficent re-re-requests for y-your presence."

"Don't you ever knock?"

He raised one silver eyebrow, slinging the towel around his shoulders. Smee continued to fiddle and twitch, and looking as though he couldn't stop himself, "It's better if you hu-hurry. She s-s-s-says that she's found out why the girl c-c-can't respond... You d-don't…" The sorry excuse for a pirate stammered and flinched some more even as Riku pushed past him, tossing the used towel over his balding head.

"Useless man."

The ship had been swaying gently when he was in the toilet, but once he was out of the protection of the room, the sway turned into a rougher rock, nearly throwing him off balance once he step forth from the stairs. Above him whizzed colourful asteroids and meteors, some of them gummi pieces that did not gain his attention even though Maleficent had mused on them, once when he accidentally walked into one of her various rooms and she was there, surrounded by the multi-colored…rocks.

Colour never, ever looked good on or around the witch. If anything, it made her look less frightening and menacing.

Nevertheless, it wasn't the time to think about whether Maleficent would look good in the latest line of gummi jewelry, if there ever was. He pushed the door, noting that Hook never bothered about having doorknobs, and saw the witch standing by Kairi's bed, looking down at her. Her obnoxious pet of a raven turned its head towards him, cawing and raising its coal black wings. He scowled at it, striding over and deliberately treaded on the witch's flowing black robe.

"Smee said you found out what happened to Kairi."

The witch chuckled. "Surely you have figured out what it is when I sent you to get that puppet." She touched Kairi's face with her hand, and instantly he smacked it away from her face.

"Don't you dare touch her."

"Of course not."

He bit his lip. "So, Kairi's like a lifeless puppet now?"

Maleficent smirked, stroking her raven. "Precisely."

"And her heart was…"

The witch seemed to take pleasure in playing with his uncertainties, interrupting him with quiet venom in her answers. "Taken by the Heartless, no doubt."

Sora's voice, taunting him, "_Riku! What's the matter with you? What are you thinking? Don't you realize what you're doing?_

_It's telling me_ _you're on the wrong side!_" 

"I'm not wrong," he breathed to himself. "I'm the one who's trying to help Kairi, not you. I'm not wrong." He looked at the witch defiantly, "Tell me! What can I do?"

She was smiling, filling him with the same sickly emotion. "There are seven maidens of the purest heart. We call them the princesses of heart. Gather them together, and a door will open to the heart of all worlds. Within lies untold wisdom. There you will surely find a way to recover Kairi's heart."

Her smile grew wider imperceptibly, and he almost felt afraid. But he couldn't turn back. Not anymore.

_You leave me no choice._

"Now, I'll grant you a marvelous gift. The power to control the Heartless."

His eyes widened, looking at her. Taking in the implication of her words.

_No choice._

Riku's expression grew hard, and he held Kairi's hand.

_No choice._

"Soon, Kairi," he told the sleeping beauty. "Soon."

When the ship docked into one of the temporary bays in Hollow Bastion, he took care that Kairi was taken to her room first before sprinting to his own, sending the still scattered papers flying as he flung the door open. He stepped over them carefully, reaching for the first book. Those pages could wait until later, once he finished the others.

He had prepared himself for a long read, settling himself comfortably on the pillows on his bed. Riku didn't know how long he spent rifling through the reports, even reading the long lengthy rants that Ansem apparently enjoyed writing when things actually went right but were really, really boring, but he still found that he really couldn't understand how the 'customized' Heartless could be made.

It involved, from what he could understand, a Heartless, memories, and compliance between both the creator and the would-be creation…so far. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he got up from his position, feeling his muscles suddenly contract in protest. Riku swept his hand out to lift himself up, and gently collided with a mug.

Surprised, he twisted his body, reaching over to lift a piece of cloth over some suspicious looking…oh. Cold food stared, well, coldly at him, almost accusing him of not eating. Riku frowned at it, and then his stomach started to protest.

"It's about time." A drawling voice made him snap his head around, one hand sliding underneath his pillow smoothly to grasp at the short staff he had kept hidden there. Its polished wood reassured him, even though he knew he didn't really have much of a chance of fighting with it. His normal weapon was much longer, but he figured, when he first saw it lying on one of the abandoned stalls in Agrabah, anything goes.

"Who's there?" Riku was glad that his voice didn't waver, even though in truth, his heart was beating wildly at the sudden intrusion. He thought he had trained himself enough such that no one could sneak up on him, but apparently, whoever this was, proved him wrong. "Show yourself," he snarled now, sending those yellow magic flares of light that usually hung around him, bathing him in a sickly yellow glow, out across the room.

It was frighteningly empty, but there was the sound of one dark chuckle, making his spine shiver. Riku tried, vainly, not to think of those old, old ghost stories that he and Sora used to tell each other during sleepovers. "Look, damn it, where the hell are you, and WHO ARE YOU?"

"Why, I'm here," the voice brushed so close to his ear that he thought he heard his neck snap as he whirled his head around to face the speaker. The fact that no one was there continued to pound in his mind that there were very, very malevolent ghosts around, and maybe even the staff couldn't save him.

"I don't like playing games, damn you."

"So I see." The same chuckle again, now slowly traveling in front of his face. Almost reflexively, he raised one hand in front of him, making a fist where he thought the voice would be. "It's of not use, child."

"Are you one of the – Maleficent's toadies?" Riku snorted. He turned away as best as he could, knowing that he could just be turning towards where the voice was. But the single act of defiance reassured him where his weapon couldn't. "I don't listen to her. Why should I listen to you?"

The laughter continued, now annoying him more rather than scaring him. "Be certain that I'm no 'toady' of the sorceress. Rather, I'm just a very interested individual." It paused, and Riku, for the lack of anything else to do, simply glowered. "You are interested in the affairs of the heart. And the darkness."

"What's it to you?"

"What's it to _me_?" The voice grew amused and derisive, making him bristle. "Nothing, to tell the truth. But you interest me. Your interest in the Keyblade Master intrigues me."

Riku suddenly found himself looking at the mirror, looking at Sora, sleeping again, face looking so tired. His heart suddenly ached again, and he willed the pain to go away. Sora was the past. Sora…wasn't supposed to matter. Kairi was.

"Who are you?" He asked again, tiredly. Ansem's reports weighed him down with their strange words and mysterious instructions, never leading him anywhere, never leading him to a conclusion to whether he should make his own…his own Sora.

The voice laughed again.

"I am your only choice. I am…your hope."

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Author's Notes:

Looks like there would be a Part 3, after all. I'm not really too happy with this chapter, because it sounded too fuzzy and confusing without anything concrete, and maybe once this fanfic is done, I'll scrap this part.

I do hope that you have enjoyed reading it, though.

Cheerios,

DarkMoon


	3. Chapter 3

Through A Mirror Darkly

_The process had been so laughably simple, but it took him so long, too long, and perhaps, too many failures. When he finally succeeded, can you imagine his incredulity? Can you imagine his rage?_

It was the pain in his hands that woke him up from his stupor, angry blistering pain that made him cry out for the first time in many days. Blood ran from his knuckles, pooling slowly in the creases on his fingers. They hurt, ached as he tried to flex them. Finally, he tore his gaze from his injured hands, to see the room in utter shambles. 

"That was a foolish thing to do." Maleficent had suddenly appeared behind him, her raven screaming in a flurry of black wings. "You will need to curb your rage."

"I did this?"

"Do not do it again. I am not your nursemaid, nor your keeper."

_But of course, the simplest things are often the hardest to discover, don't you agree, child?_

He leaned heavily against the mirror, feeling the cold freeze his back. If he looked very closely, he could see his own image faintly superimposed over Sora's. If he stood very still, especially if Sora was sleeping, and if he believed very, very hard, he could feel Sora's warmth washing over him.

There was a little voice that told him, some times, that the warmth came only from a memory, like the warmth from a stone left in the sun for too long. And other times, it mocked, whispering that the warmth was only a reflection of his own, and that Sora was nothing.

But he still believed anyway.

_What was it? That silly rhyme about the requisites need for flying? Faith, trust…and yes, of course, pixie dust._

"Three days. Get your girl ready, boy. We're going to find her heart for ye."

Captain Hook's namesake flashed as he laughed at Riku's incredulous expression. "Why, did you think we're all…heartless? We only want to help ye, boy." The pun sickened him, and he turned away.

_'Is it true?'_

_About flying? Dear boy, haven't you learned anything by now? Has your journey meaning nothing? Nothing is impossible, not even flying, if you have the right tools._

The witch had forced him to attend one of her little gatherings with her compatriots. As usual, it was loud, messy and filled with egotistical, self-absorbed topics and comments. He hated it, wishing all the more that he was in his room or with Kairi. At least her silent company was preferable to what he likened the meal as an opportunity to "one-up" your fellow villains.

"Silent little chap, isn't he?"

He gritted his teeth, striving to focus on the cold veal on his place. The speaker was a pompous man who went by the name of Gaston, and delighted in trying to get a rise out of Riku as often as possible.

"Leave him." Maleficent replied, drinking almost elegantly from the goblet in her hand. "He's just brooding."

"Oh really?" Gaston's smile was the epitome of maliciousness. "Over what?"

"He's brooding over the loss of his love."

He swore vengeance on her that day, paying hatred to her with his eyes as the whole table erupted into laughter. She, for her part, smiled.

_You'll probably have the easiest time getting the dust though._

_'Why is that?'_

_You've lost the other two, haven't you? You're only clinging on to hope._

_'Shut up. Tell me what I must do, or get lost. I have better things to do that listen to your opinions of me.'_

_'That's better. I tire of this ceaseless prattle.'_

The short staff cut through the air, hitting some imaginary enemy that he hadn't envisioned since he left Destiny Islands. Sweat matted his hair and left it sticking uncomfortably to the sides of his face and his neck. He was grateful for the exercise; it took his mind of things like Heartless, like Kairi, like home. 

But it made him focus on Sora, and indirectly, he knew that it was what the witch had wanted. In his mind's eye, Sora fought with him and against him. Sora was a shadow, his shadow, following his every action.

Sora was a ghost, whose smile and laughter gradually faded, leaving him to grasp futilely at the unraveling threads of memory.

He flung the staff against the wall, relishing sickly the sound of breaking wood.

_The Heartless can be manipulated through the means of a blood bind. They are not stupid, thoughtless creatures, child. They were once alive, after all, and if imbued with the blood of a living person, well, you shall see later._

It took him the time for a candle of burn down to a lump of wax to decide whether he wanted his own Heartless. Ansem's books told him little more than what the voice had said, and it annoyed him. Still it lent credibility to the voice.

"I'm not doing this for you," he said, voice trembling, to the girl on the bed, to the boy behind the mirror. "I'm doing it for me.

"For me."

_All you need is a bowl, a knife and the clear, clean memory of the one you wish to re-create._

_'Is that all?'_

_Maybe. Maybe not. But they're the basic requirements._

The knife and bowl were easy to procure. All he needed to do was to wish aloud for them, and they appeared. The memory, however, was much harder. He couldn't get his thoughts to settle. 

Perhaps it would be better if he didn't settle them at all. Somewhere inside, he was uncomfortable in making a Heartless in someone else's image. If he didn't have a specific person in mind…he could just have the Heartless, wouldn't it? It wouldn't have an identity, and he didn't need to look at the pseudo-person. Would he?

Did he want Sora?

Gritting his teeth, he drew the blade down, hard, across his bare palm, watching the pain and the blood flower like some blooming rose. And he waited.

_'Who are you? How is it you know how to do this? Are you Ansem?'_

_It is none of your business._

_But I…I knew him once. He was a good man._

_And now I know him no more._

The voice was right. 

He watched as the darkling approached him, its head cocked slightly to one side like a curious child. Softly glowing eyes fixed their gaze on the slow, languid flow of blood from his fingers, and Riku sucked in a long breath as he looked at it. It uttered a series of bird whistles and clicks as it glided smoothly across the floor, reaching out cautiously with one antennae to touch him. When he made no move to chase it away, it grew bolder, coming almost up to him.

It did not attack him. Instead, it took his injured hand almost gently, inspecting it almost, before putting his fingers in its mouth.

Riku shivered at the gesture, almost mesmerized by the cold, dark and strangely shy tongue that now licked slowly at the wound along his palm. For a moment, he thought he saw Sora kneeling in front of him, a crumpled, dirty-looking handkerchief being pressed gently but firmly onto the wound. Riku fought the now-familiar feelings of despair welling up, and he tired to draw away from both the Heartless and the memory. To his surprise, however, the darkling continued to hold his hand and pressed its own subtly clawed one over the wound, in a mimicry of what he saw Sora doing in his mind.

And to his horror, it began to shift, dark skin stretching and changing into someone familiar, someone he knew, someone called, "_Sora_"…

_'Then who are you?_

_Answer me!'_

_Word to the wise: Beware of your own heart's desire._

_Beware your own dark reflections._

It was sleeping next to him, curled up under the sheets like a pool of dark ink, or a sculpture of ebony or black rock or black pearl, but breathing and alive. It liked being with him, like the warmth that he gave, hot like the sun. 

The wound on his hand had healed, leaving only a thin, white scar behind. He wondered if a Heartless' saliva had healing properties. And he wondered, what the voice really meant, when it said, "Maybe not."

It was time.

Gently, he ghosted lips over the perfect, black eyelashes of the sleeping Anti-Sora, his hand touching its shoulder. It stirred, slowly opening yellow eyes and looking almost adoringly at him.

He couldn't help but smile.

"Wake up, Sora. It's time to go. Time to help Kairi."

Riku had not looked back at the mirror since.

* * *

Author's Note: 

It is finished. :D It's a little darker than I expected, but truthfully, I enjoyed writing this part the most, even though it gave me the most trouble with it. To the personalized scene in Chapter 2, I apologise because I have never seen that scene in my life (I have not completed Kingdom Hearts since Agrabah, and never will) and just referring to the game script is a little more than difficult to envision the proper scene. So I had to make do. Apologies to anyone who wasn't happy and felt that it wasn't true to the game!

Thank you for reading thus far. I hope you have enjoyed this story.


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